


A Day Off

by futsi



Category: The Sims (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Strangetown, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:42:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29588799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futsi/pseuds/futsi
Summary: Loki Beaker finds himself debating on whether he should take the day off or not.
Relationships: Circe Beaker/Loki Beaker
Kudos: 2





	A Day Off

"I could just call in sick for today." Loki Beaker thinks to himself as he squints at the grandfather clock across the room, and looks back at his unfinished project. 

For the first time, he somewhat regrets having chosen his paid vacation days with such a lack of care - well, the rerun marathon of his favorite Spanish soap opera, as well as dedicating one afternoon to stalking and _perhaps_ attacking Vidcund with a drone were definitely worth it, but he could have waited until the weekend for his ten-step at-home pedicure.

But the ice on which he is currently walking with his employer is too thin, and the effort to remember to actually call once he’d be caught up in his workflow again is too high, he concludes.

He takes an unsatisfied last look at the yet to be finalized successor to his Vomit Recycler, which, in addition to optical improvements such as cobalt blue lacquer with golden accents, is supposed to impress with a brand new end product selection even featuring edibles, and a total of three sound options to announce its recycling completion. 

Loki releases a deep sigh as he covers it with a blanket and turns away from his work table, feeling defeated. It took him way too long to get the concept to its perfection! The execution of it now being dependent on the availability of time, watching all these days pass by like that, this unnerving piece by piece progress while he could be way further… he’s an inventor, out of everything, this should be the only issue he wouldn’t need to be concerned about!

As he takes off his gloves, the thought of just quitting crosses his mind for a moment. 

Nothing new, at this point it had multiple times. He holds them stacked on one another with both his hands, his right thumb gliding across the fabric. He’s something a lot of people are not: financially independent. The boring, mass-serving appliances he assembled at work just keep him from dedicating his time to the important things: His own, precious projects that surely one day will lead him to the glory he so very much deserved, far more groundbreaking, no boss setting any limitations. No “We’ll not produce this in a flame pattern!” or ““Vaporize“ is a universally unacceptable feature, not solely concerning the demographic below the age of twelve.“ 

But why is he still there, then? Because said desired recognition would still be easier to achieve the conventional way, within this environment? Is that who Loki Beaker was? 

Well, he could still simultaneously enslave Strangetown if he was so inclined, he reminds himself as he finally stores his gloves in the drawer and heads up the staircase.

His wife’s sleep wasn’t particularly easy to disturb, but Loki usually tried not to make an entire circus show of noises when he knew she was already asleep as he’d get ready for bed. Well, bumping his head against closed doors he would’ve _sworn_ were open, tripping over power cables, or accidentally activating the burglar alarm doesn’t really count, does it? After all, only one of those instances actually managed to wake her up!

Finally, after only experiencing a calf cramp when trying to keep his balance while carefully peeling his left sock off with his other foot, he manages, quietly slides under the sheets, and checks the alarm reading 4:37 AM one last time, before resting his head on the pillow and closing his eyes, hoping to make the most out of the few hours he had left to rest a little and not keep himself awake by mentally organizing how he could potentially structure the following day to finish his improved recycler.

-

Almost half asleep, he could hear the blanket rapidly moving for a split second.

Followed by quiet yet heavy, fast-paced breathing.

Within a fraction of a second, Loki’s wide awake again, restraining himself from reaching for the lamp switch on the bedside table. It’s better if she wouldn't know he noticed, he concludes.

Circe should not feel compelled to explain herself again, claiming she just suddenly remembered she told the scrub nurse the instrument lineup for the wrong surgical procedure and how the rearrangement will throw them back in time in this uncertain, alien tone. It surely was hard to fathom she’d go as far as voluntarily inventing a scenario highlighting only the smallest form of incompetence on her end. Above everything, she wanted to forget. And if not letting December 2005 define any further moment in her life, creating any new memory building a connection to it, meant he can’t pull her into an embrace in that very moment, as much as he wants to, or at least calm her down, and is left with listening to her repeated panicked in-and exhales slowly returning to a more steady and controlled pace before she’d silently sink back into the mattress as nothing happened, then so it be. No matter how frustrating his lack of action feels, how he can’t be more of help than just not moving a muscle. It felt so deeply upsetting.

Not as upsetting but almost coming close happens to be the deafening alarm, quickly overpowered by the bright Strangetown sun blinding his eyes within the couple of seconds he had opened them. Watcher, for what did they even have tinted windows? 

With an irritated groan, Loki rolls over to his left, finding Circe’s neatly made blanket, about three times thicker than his own. It bothered him sometimes, that they didn’t share a blanket due to their fundamentally different body temperatures. But it also meant she’d use him as a human radiator every once in a while - everything has its pros and cons, after all.

Before even seeing her, Loki could already hear the noise of her fingers hitting the keyboard as he’s walking down the stairs in his robe, stopping midway to rub his eyes. Nothing unusual per se - when it comes to his spouse, work clearly isn’t defined by a schedule, but he doesn’t recall having heard this sound in the early morning too often unless he had found her to seem particularly stressed.

There she is, sitting at the kitchen table behind her laptop. Probably typing away reports, diagnoses, anything along the lines of that, nothing really worth a question to bother her with.

Already having his mouth half-open, about to start the usual casual morning conversation as he approaches her, he hesitates for a second. “Don’t be too overbearing or she’ll know you know.“, he reminds himself.

“Already at work, huh?“ Loki finally remarks, his eyes wandering from her as per usual sharp, attentive gaze to what she’s wearing: A white blouse? A light color _and_ airy fabric? Circe? Well, this summer has in fact been remarkably hot, but it’s almost a shame how she’d barely wear it otherwise, considering just how beautiful it looks on her complexion. Quite odd how he normally wouldn’t be fond of light colors in any other context, but on his wife, it’s just... such a surprisingly welcome sight.

Circe takes a sip from her mug, her eyes still focused on the documents on her screen “It means a less cluttered day at the unit.“ she replies, now finally looking at him as she puts her mug down on the table. ”Good morning to you too, by the way.“ 

Loki nods, oddly unsure how to continue. Normally he’d just express whatever flashed right through his mind - how do other people do this, constantly pondering over what they say? Exhausting.

“And how’s it going?“

“Just dandy.“ she reports, her attention already back at the screen as she lifts her right hand to point towards the espresso machine “Coffee’s ready, by the way.“ 

“Ah yeah, I assumed.“ Loki comments, reaching for his mother’s Beaches mug from the cupboard he, to his wife’s disappointment, never got rid of for reasons unknown. “This, uh, white blouse - it’s handsome on you.“ he adds, “It’s a color you don’t wear enough of.“

Circe raises an eyebrow, leaving him wondering if she processed his statement as the compliment it was meant to be or found it patronizing.

“Noted.“

Loki pours his remaining coffee into the mug, his audible slurping causing visible distress in his partner.

“I would like to finish these, you know.“

“Oh, I won’t keep disturbing you.“ Loki reassures her, trying to choose his next words carefully “Just…I’m hoping you’re not overworking yourself.“

Now he has her undivided attention: “Alright, what did you do?“

“Nothing… I just… want to be sure my wife is happy. Like any considerate husband would want to be.“

She looks at her partner, a hint of skepticism apparent on her face as she scans his ridiculously over-exaggerated smile. “Ah yeah. Well, you’re very cute, but I can assure you there’s no need to worry about that.“ she reassures, her initially questioning expression turning into a mere smug, still giving Loki no indicator if she was buying it or not “Now, would you let-”

As on cue, the carpool’s horn roars through the streets.

“Hold up, it’s not 9 AM already, is it?”

“No, they’re just early today.”

She scoffs, “Marvelous.“, now fully snapped out of her undertaking as she closes her laptop. Within a couple of seconds, she gathers her purse, for once skipping on any kind of coat, and makes her way towards the exit.

“Are you certain you’re not-”

Circe turns around, her piercing glare stopping him short.

“Didn’t say anything.“ he completes, innocently raising up both his arms, still holding his mug “But you’ll still grant me a goodbye kiss, right?”

“If you insist.“ she says, beelining over to kiss him in her typical manner whenever she was leaving for work: rushed, yet unbelievably precise; never messy or half-heartedly, no matter how fast it has to go.

Loki then watches her trailing down the remaining stairs before peeking at the lab table yesterday’s project is still sitting on, then looks back at his wife now entering the vehicle, visibly struggling to close the door.

Yeah, today he won’t go to work, he concludes.

-

“Oh, sweet, _sweet_ victory!”

After seven hours of undistracted and persistent work, Loki is holding his mind’s newest finished manifesto in his hands, not even being able to appreciate it in all of its glory as he hears the doorbell ring.

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he recognized the obtrusive woman whom the blond-green silhouette belonged to. He moves up his safety goggles along the way. Yep, definitely Jenny Smith.

“Happy Anniversary!“ she beams, sporting a wide grin as she holds up a basket of muffins. Loki looks at her, visibly puzzled, “…what anniversary?” he replies, his confusion starting to lessen as the only thing his neighbor could potentially be referring to dawns on him within the blink of an eye. Oh Watcher, _that_ anniversary.

Jenny looks at him, a peculiar expression on her face before releasing an obnoxious laugh Loki couldn’t quite make out whether to be staged or genuine “Oh, Loki, always the wisecracker - making me believe for a moment you actually forgot about you guys’ wedding anniversary! Never scare me like that again!” she exclaims, nudging him into the arm.

“Oh-OH, yes, that one!“ he sweat drops, his mind elsewhere as his eyes trail towards the grandfather clock - crap, 4:48! - before shifting his attention back to his wife’s coworker, friend, frenemy... it was hard to tell, depending on who you'd ask. 

“Of course! So many, uh, anniversaries to keep track of, I needed some specification there.“

“You surely are a busy man!” she confirms, gesturing at his lab coat ”Anyways, I’m hoping you will enjoy these! The ones in the blue liners are oatmeal banana flavored, a _Norwegian_ recipe! The muffins with red liners on the other hand-”

Loki takes the basket in a swift motion, panic spreading across his face “Oh yeah, oatmeal, red liners, that sounds great Jenny, thanks, bye!“ he blares, abruptly smashing the door closed in front of her nose in trepidation.

“I NEED A GIFT FOR CIRCE AND I NEED IT NOW!” 

After speed driving to Strangetown’s only mall while crossing three red lights and swallowing two of Jenny’s muffins during the process, Loki catches his breath, looking at the overwhelming array of different stores in front of him. He dramatically places his hand on his forehead, almost feeling his entire environment spiraling around him. Thinking straight under pressure certainly doesn’t count to his redeeming qualities, and this circumstance didn’t make an exception - how is he going to find a fitting gift for her within forty minutes? How’s he going to make it back in time? What was Circe even into again?

As he keeps passing by a ridiculous amount of overly specialized stores Loki could only shrug his head at, anything but appropriate to find a gift for his wife - what on earth would she want with a year’s supply of fiberfill, Watcher! How can these ridiculous stores even sustain themselves? - Loki finally stops at the glitzy display of Strangetown’s finest - and only - jewelry store, conveniently placed between a kiosk and a meat counter.

When approaching the shop window and closely examining the pieces, his eyes fall on a pair of earrings: Golden, set with diamonds, shaped like cobras: Absolutely stunning. But would they truly match Circe’s high standards? 

Hold on, what are his orbs spying there? 

A silver anklet with a little plate, even featuring an inscription: “XOXO”. Now that’s just perfect!

But his gift declaration is cut short as he detects a hairy hand reaching for it from the other side. He looks up, realizing the retail assistant is taking it out for a customer who’s impatiently tapping his foot at the checkout. 

No!

Nobody steals Circe’s anklet!

His heart races as he runs into the store, but the very moment Loki manages to reach the checkout, he’s met by said customer, holding a shopping bag in each hand as he’s on his way outside. Loki blocks his path.

"Uh -Sir, did you know this brand's jewelry is known for containing a wide variety of harmful toxins?" Loki blurts before reproachfully pointing at the cashier, "SHAME ON YOU!"

“Only lunatics today...” the cashier mutters while the man forcefully attempts to pass by the scientist. Loki quickly follows him outside. "Look," he begins, “I really _need_ this anklet! "

"I'm sorry, but this is a gift for my daughter’s birthday. I’m sure you’re gonna find something else."

"You don’t seem to grasp the importance of-I-I'll pay you twice the amount!"

“As I’ve already said, I’m not going to-”

Loki cuts him off, tapping on the stranger’s chest with his index finger as he blocks his way once again. ”How about a ten percent voucher on your next Vomit Recycler purchase?”

"Sir, I am going to notify security if you won’t stop bothering me immediately!"

"Well,” Loki inhales, pausing for a second when coming to realize he’s running out of persuasion techniques “Fine. But let me assure you one thing: You will utterly regret the day you messed with me!” he threatens, “ You won’t be able to close an eye at night, bathing in a nebula of fear in the vain hope I will never-” 

“HEY!”

Loki briskly tears the bag out of the guy’s hand and races towards the exit, only clashing into about seven people on his way out.

-

Upon arriving back at the castle, Loki releases a deep exhale before vigorously shoving the shopping bag under his seat after taking the elegant casket out of it. He hastily slips it into his back pocket as he rushes up the now seemingly endless front staircase, still feeling out of breath. Who would’ve thought he’d find himself missing the aesthetically underwhelming exterior of their property at Paradise Place?

After catching his breath one last time, he peers at the street, thankfully no carpool to be seen, and lets himself into the castle, instantly turning towards his left to, once again, check the grandfather clock. 5:54. Phew!

“Admittedly, I was hoping you got groceries, ‘cause we’re pretty much out of those.”

“Circe!” 

Loki shrieks back, his hand glued to his chest as he spots his wife sitting in an armchair, calmly sorting through a stack of papers.

“You’re back already?”

“Can’t contain the excitement I see.” she comments monotonously. She leans back into her seat, her arms folded over her chest. “Yeah, given the number of accumulated hours I’ve worked overtime I could take weeks off at this point, and considering the occasion, I figured you’d appreciate me leaving thirty minutes earlier-”

“HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, DEAREST WIFE!” Loki bursts out, holding up the casket in an attempt to diminish his wife’s disappointment on the spot. “Sorry about that, you should’ve told me.” He walks over to her, taking her right hand - Geez! He should’ve gotten her a hand warmer instead - and kissing it multiple times. “Forgive me.”

“Well, you take the day off on our wedding days anyway, so I didn’t deem it necessary,” she notes before taking the box, visibly intrigued as she’s feeling its velvet, luxurious surface with her fingers. Loki watches in excitement as she opens it.

“To my sweet Laney, the best daughter a father could ever ask for.” Circe reads, his face falling as she holds up the note hidden inside the box to her husband.

Loki scratches the back of his head in discomfort. “Huh, seems like the retail assistant messed something up there!” he sweats, “But who cares about these minor inconveniences - what do you think? The moment I saw it on display I knew you were the only one deserving to have it.”

Circe stares at her gift, an odd expression on her face as she lifts it up. “Well…” she begins, seemingly uncertain what to reply while looking at her husband waiting for her final verdict in anticipation, “I’ve certainly never owned a bedazzled comb before.”

Shit. Wrong bag. 

Loki gulps. “Now - to get over that retail assistant’s whom I’m positively going to sue faux pas, let me bring you your special anniversary treat!” he announces in panic, instantly pulling his partner by the arm and leading her over to the kitchen to seat her right by the dinner table. “On today’s menu, Chef Loki’s going to spoil you with...”

He struggles to end his sentence as he opens the fridge, realizing his wife’s remark about groceries wasn’t particularly unjustified when he eyes his whopping selection consisting of a skyr, three tv dinners, some cheese slices, a couple of blueberries, and a tin of goat milk. Time to improvise. “goat milk...”

“Goat milk?” Circe repeats, looking at her husband in disbelief.

“Yeah,” he nervously laughs while taking two glasses from the cabinet, “In addition to these muffins I prepared!” he finishes, robotically gesturing at the basket sitting on the counter.

“Right, I noticed those. Though I assumed Jenny brought them over given the basket and all.” she adds as she takes another look at the green eyesore.

“Well, I chose this presentation as it clearly, uh, adds to the ambiance!” he explains, taking the basket to put it in the middle of the table, almost completely blocking their view at each other. “See?”

Promptly he takes a muffin and holds it out to the bit of red hair still peeking above the basket. “Try this oatmeal banana one!” he insists, “It’s a _Norwegian_ recipe!”

“What’s in the other ones?” What is this, a wedding anniversary or an interrogation?

“Oh, well.” he quickly grabs one of the darker muffins from the basket, descending into his chair so she hopefully wouldn’t see him as he keeps audibly chewing on his bite to figure out the flavor. 

Loki scrunches his face in disgust, “Blurgh, mint - I mean, that’s chocolate mint!” he exclaims, “I know how much you like that... _aseptic_ flavor!”

Circe sighs. With one motion she takes the basket off the table before narrowing in on her husband who’s still struggling to swallow his bite. “You were feeling guilty.“

Loki stares at her with an appalled look “What?“ he spews, almost spitting out some crumbs along the way.

“About forgetting our anniversary, is that the reason for your strange behavior this morning?“

“Oh.” Loki’s gaze trails to the floor, almost feeling a sense of relief over Circe making this connection instead. “Well, I think you caught me red-handed there,” Loki confesses while looking surprisingly sincere, “It just flew over my head within the number of projects I was invested in. It’s not going to happen again.“

“Huh. Frankly, I thought you’d deny that.” she admits as she peels the liner off a mint muffin, “I mean, I vividly recall you lavishly plating Indian takeout for my 29th birthday under the assumption I wouldn’t recognize the flavors.”

“You noticed - I mean, well, I am surprised you didn’t bring it up then.”

“What you may lack in certain areas you make up for in different ones. Plus, I still enjoyed it,” Circe reveals, her expression softening. She gestures at her muffin before taking a bite, ”I take it these are Jenny’s, then?” Loki nods.

“Ugh.” she scoffs, glaring at the baked good in resentment. There it is again. That piercing fire in her eyes, those roaring flames feeding off of her hatred for her coworker... and the dawning sun illuminating her face sideways casting these stark shadows - and this perfectly, perfectly white blouse making his heart skip two beats! But he’s having other plans for the night, Loki reminds himself. 

“Damn it. Of course, they’re nothing but delicious.” she bolts, “You can just taste the love.”

Almost close to arrhythmia, Loki turns around on his seat to scan the room. 

“I think I know what will get us in a better mood.” he hints with a sly smile before pointing at the pile of mail on the coffee table across the room. “Vidcund surely sent a new love letter, didn’t he?”

“You’re in for a treat, Loki.”

-

“Circe, darling? Are you still awake?“

Upon getting no response from her - just as he was hoping for - Loki quietly tiptoes towards their bed and sits down on his partner’s side of the mattress, never having been more cautious in his life to not make a sound.

He eyes the little square gadget in his right hand before carefully placing his other, empty hand on her jaw, slightly turning her face towards him while moving a few strands out of her face during the process, revealing her temple. After carefully positioning the square LED piece, he swiftly slips on a pair of obscure-looking glasses from his pocket.

“Now, don’t let me down,” he mutters.

But within a matter of seconds, he watches as a plethora of pictures starts playing in front of him, showing his wife’s entire long-term memory lane. Loki couldn’t help but feel an exorbitant rush of pride - how could he actually doubt his abilities even for the fraction of a second? 

He navigates through them in amazement, having to remind himself he’s only there to find a particular memory as a starting point, as tempted as he’s growing to rewatch Vidcund wetting his pants in public or be privy to the enviable experience of having sex with himself - being this gorgeous certainly is a double-edged sword. But for his wife, he’d even omit that, he thinks to himself while he keeps searching.

_“So…if what that officer’s saying is true… I guess this means I owe you an apology.”_

_“You do. But it doesn’t matter. What happened, happened.”_

_“But I should’ve known! Let me tell you, I’ll pulverize him should I ever see-”_

_“I’d prefer to just move on from that, Loki. Alright?”_

There we go.

Marking this as his endpoint, Loki goes all the way back until he finds himself notifying Circe about the moving van entering Paradise Place. Unbelievable this piece of shit lived among them for two entire months.

He takes a deep breath, shaking slightly as he confirms his choice.

“DELETION IN PROGRESS” the inside of his glasses reads as the LED light on Circe’s temple turns from green to yellow. Impatiently he’s watching the bar drawing closer towards the right, delicately stroking her cheek with his left thumb while waiting for the process to be finished. 

Upon the small light turning green again, signalizing its completion, Loki slowly removes the gadget but keeps sitting on her bedside for another minute. All of the sudden, a cold shower washes over him, realizing the irony of it all. 

It doesn’t matter, he concludes, before looking back at his partner: What he just did, and what Newlow had done, don’t compare - this was for her own good.

“Happy anniversary,” Loki whispers, gently planting a kiss on her forehead before heading downstairs again, eager to finalize his Vomit Recycler 2.0, never having felt more satisfaction from taking a day off.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you to Sveearu for the lovely feedback & encouragement to share this!


End file.
